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RPlog:Dinner and a wedding
---- Lynae Raven black hair is kept in a layered cut that feathers back from her face in a look that is flattering to her sharp profile. Cobalt blue eyes survey the world with a look of keen intellect, shrewd observation and a hint of underlying challenge to add weight to her gaze. She is pale though holds a faintly golden tan that makes her eyes seem more blue, warmer somehow. Full lips curve either in a faint smile or frown with concentration below a rather patrician nose. At 5'8" she is slender and lean with a wiry build that conveys a sense of strength and grace. Clasped tightly around her right wrist is a band of brushed durasteel with tiny print. Devoid of any other jewelry or markings of any sort, the bracelet stands out as unusual sort of decoration, though the printing only conveys the fact that the wearer is allergic to Bacta. A thin line of scar tissue encircles her left wrist, the scar is well healed but merely one of the many she carries, and the only one that's easily visible. '' ''Lynae's gown flows in a classic cut, appearing seamless, tailored to flatter her form while accentuating her slender lean frame and subtly enhancing her attributes to the fullest potential. The gown is a deep royal blue, so blue that in the right light it almost shimmers like the vast expanse of blue-black starlit skies. Fastened at each shoulder with a jeweled clip, a long silver chain is caught below her breasts, crossing her back, encircling her waist, then hugging her hips low to an intricate knot in the front with the tasseled ends nearly reaching the floor. Her arms are bare to the shoulders, flawlessly smooth, a pair of silver sandals completes the outfit. Mahon Age has weathered him, no doubt, and where it would leave lesser men crumbling and frail, with Mahon it has merely eroded away the lesser material to leave a facade as grim, unyielding and imposing as a granite mountainside. He is not a tall man, coming to a modest height of five foot eight, though his presence is something more. And though he might not stand tall, he's solid and broad, with considerable power to his build, of the sort that does not come from repetitive artificial training in a gym. His eyes are intense, piercing, flinty, and have accumulated their share of lines beneath them. Often they peer out at the world from beneath a challenging scowl. Whether by choice, or nature, he is now as bald as a cue-ball, the tan skin marred by old, blotchy scars from long forgotten wars. And when he speaks, it is with the voice of one well familiar with and used to command - low, and clipped, but tempered with a down to earth brogue of backwater civilizations. There is a martial flair to his attire, which has been selected for matters of ceremony and the high affairs of state. He wears a standing-collar tunic of deep blue, and black trousers, both of decidedly militaristic cut. His black dress shoes show particular attention, having been lavishly polished to a positively liquid gleam. Emblems of silver affixed to each collar of the tunic, showing stylized emblems of the Caspian Democratic Union. A crisply white, silver-edged sash is worn diagonally across chest, affixed with the device of the Office of the President, while a stark white sword-belt is worn about his waist. From the left side of the latter, a scabbard hangs, cradling an immaculately maintained cutlass. ---- Casohav Lodge - Marin Mountain Resort: Caspar The three story exterior is constructed entirely of breeze pine logs. Through the immense rustic doors lies the grandiose lobby of the lodge. The first of three stories, this level is mostly public areas and offices. Two more stories of rooms and amenities are accessible via stairs or a very small lift. A long reception desk is center. To the right is a business center, conference room and other administrative areas. To the left is the lobby bar with its large inviting fireplace and many comfy looking sofas and chairs. Beyond that is a fine restaurant. Early evening in the mountains and the sky is clear, the air is crisp and the hush of new fallen snow outside the mountain lodge creates the sort of winter wonderland that the region is so well known for. Invitations to a simple dinner party were sent and the invited guests arrive to find that one of the smaller rooms is reserved for the dinner party. Formal attire had been suggested and the dinner party attendees re turned out in their best and most beautiful. As sunset begins to color the sky in winter radiance, Mahon looks aside to Lynae. He arches one eyebrow slightly, in wordless communication, then turns and rises to his feet. He composes his expression to the most solemn and painfully dignified one which he can muster. He clears his throat, and looks about the room, "Friends. Distinguished guests. I suppose you all are wondering why I bring you here. I assure you, it is a matter of... grave importance. Serious times, you might say. The balance of the Galaxy is at stake." Frederiko readies his jazzophone, he likes to play the jazzophone! HM743 is seated, if that's the term for having one's legs bent and pretending to put some weight on a chair that one knows was not rated for beings of one's considerable mass. The droid doesn't drinking anything, but that's no real surprise. And, if it ever meets the person who came up with the name 'jazzaphone', it will slap them with a convenient piece of furniture. NOTLIM THROWS FOLLOWERS. FLOWERS. There is something nice about simple, earth-toned robes. They can appear at once both humble and princely, lowly and stately. Having arrived as quickly as he could, getting the impression that there was little time to waste but uncertain as to exactly what was going on, Enb'Zik now is seated at a simple table, listening thoughtfully as Mahon begins to speak. His eyes wander over both the Interim Presav and Lynae as the former goes on, taking in their corresponding manner of dress and drawing an arched brow of curiosity. Sadim looks up from his nerf steak to the words of his superior. "You know if you had told me that you were going to talk about serious time Commander, I would have brought the heavy duty liquor." He smiles slightly and then takes another bite of his meal. Snarl doesn't typically do anything remotely resembling what the majority of beings would call 'dressy', but every once in a while she'll put in the effort. Generally with her way of thinking, less is more. In response to the request to attend a formal dinner party, the Horansi reluctantly conformed to Human dress-code standards and donned a sapphire blue cocktail dress that is almost startling when shown against the orange in her fur. The dress is short, falling only to mid-thigh on the tall feline. It is sleeveless and leaves a good portion of her back exposed to the air. Basically, it's as comfortable as she could get while still being dressy. As usual, the Horansi is not wearing shoes. She stays close to Enb'Zik, the two making an even more startling contrast in appearance than usual. Maris is seated, as well, at the dinner table in an unusually stiff manner with her green eyes focused on the standing pair before her. Her food has hardly been touched and to presume that this woman is uncomfortable is an understatement considering the company in which she is surrounded by. Trying her best not to let her mind wander to more unpleasant things, she stares blankly as Mahon speaks with a mildly arched brow of interest. Meeting Mahon's gaze with her own, a smile forms on Lynae's face for a moment before she too assumes a terribly dignified expression. "Indeed, these are challenging times," she agrees with a slow nod of her own. She glances around the table, the close friend they'd invited to dinner, spots the curious expression Enb'Zik's face and meets his gaze also with a bit of a smile before saying to Sadim, "I think that the addition of more alcohol would not be strictly necessary right now, but perhaps in a few minutes," she adds. Her gaze roams towards Snarl and another smile is shared before she nods towards Maris and says, "We know that this wasn't the easiest dinner to attend, of course. You all were so far away from planet and sector, so we are glad that you've come." She reaches out and lightly rests her hand on Mahon's and simply says, "Before the waiters arrive with the dinner menus we're going to go ahead and get married. Thought we'd take care of that while the appetizer is being prepared, it's a rather efficient use of time," she adds, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she glances around for the expressions that will result from her words. On cue with Lynae's words the sound of a piper playing a traditional instrument for the Union and her navy begins to emanate from the rear of the room as a pair of doors open to reveal two rows of soldiers dressed in the attire of honor guards, they uniforms perfectly ordered and shined as they march silently behind the soft musical melodies of their introduction. Between the guard is a solemn looking older man, his white hair setting well with a pair of aged blue eyes which illuminate wisdom from years of life and service. His dress uniform was similar to that of the navy but tucked under his right arm was a small, simple book. He smiles warmly as he moves to the front of the room with the escorts spreading to make room for a few more people between them. "Even in the darkest galaxies, there is hope and life. Today I hope this event will remind you of that, and to strive for what is just and true." he turns to Lynae and Mahon and gestures them forward. Snarl looks about as surprised as she would if Lynae had suddenly suggested that they should all go together and have a guided tour of Endor's moons. Right now. She blinks a couple of times and glances back and forth between Lynae and Mahon before shooting a sideways grin at Enb'Zik. As the official looking fellow enters from the rear of the room with his own fanfare, she shifts her attention and watches with lightly twitching ears. Frederiko begins to emit some jazz, wailing a salty tune from his instrument. It is simple ambiance from the announcement being made but it is very appropriate for the moment. HM743 thinks a guided tour of Endor's moons would be awesome, although what with the super dreadnought explosion, they're probably not much for tourists anymore. If it had tear ducts, it's entirely likely that Frederiko would have made it cry just then. Wide black eyes meet those of Lynae Cassius as she turns her gaze toward Enb'Zik. The tips of his mouth turn upward minutely, the expression covered by his dewflaps as he silently gages the woman's body language. Even he doesn't anticipate her next announcement, though. Instead, his emotive blink is rather pronounced as he leans back in his seat and looks aside at Snarl. In the middle of everything else, this is both huge and astonishing. His bulbous lower lip drops in an expression of surprise. With everything going on, he just did not see this coming. He's still watching Lynae with a amicably culpatory expression growing on his face. His eyes say the only thing they need to as the Caspian honor guard begins to enter the room: Tsk! and Yes. This is good. The colour guard would be drawn from the Marines, of course. And in the case of the Union Marines, that 'traditional instrument' would be the Krittish war pipes, borrowed from the Krittain system. It's a brutal, skirling sound well-suited to marches, funerals and terrifying folks who you are about to land on from orbit. It's sufficient to say that it probably doesn't harmonize well with a 'jazzaphone'. Mahon gives a nod of approval, and a faint smirk. "Now. Uh. At this point, it turns out I'm short a Best Man. Thought I was being thorough in picking five possibles, but four of them are on deployment, and another one is in sickbay recovering from a bit of lithobraking." Mahon frowns subtly, as if this won't do at all, then turns sharply to face HM743 of all beings, "HM743, your services are requested." Lynae can't quite help the smile that has settled on her face and she turns as well, her gaze resting first on Maris and then on Sadim and then simply says something that ought to surprise more than a few, "I am faced with a challenge of my own," she says simply. "My best friend Maris, my sister in heart, is here tonight. Also, however, is my half brother," she nods her head towards Sadim. "Who has not been properly introduced as such all this time," she lets -that- one settle for a moment before saying, "would you both do me the honor of standing with me? " The droid has a deep appreciation for Krittish War pipes They're the musical equivalent of a pneumatic drill. The droid rises to it feet and approaches, snapping off a salute. "Ready, willing, and deeply honored, Presav." it says, sounding quite pleased, as it steps up to take its place in the surprise wedding party. Good thing it dressed for the occasional is beautiful and life giving, the jazz that emits from Frederiko's "horn". He plays along side the war pipes, his jazz filling the room with its beautiful sound. Snarl watches everything with interest. However, being true to her nature, at least a small portion of her interest is still focused on putting meat into her belly. Patience, they say, is a virtue. So the massive feline simply remains in her seat and quiet as she observes. Oddly enough, the Horansi seems to appreciate the skirling sound of the war pipes Perhaps they remind her of something. The Chaplain seems amused by Mahon's request for a best man as the music flows around them and then as Lynae's family is request he feels it was time to start the ceremony. A soft and weathered hand raises to silent the music as the old white hair man's eyes turn softly to the two about to be wed. His voice was musical withered by age but gentle like an evening breeze, "We are gathered here to witness the bonding in marriage of two exceptional living beings: Thomas C Mahon and Lynae Cassius." he smiles warmly leaning in, "I pray you have your rings", maybe it has been long over due in his mind but his soft blue eyes don't reveal any secrets. His fingers part the small black book as he draws a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and begins without hesitation, "Thomas C Mahon take your ring. Do you take Lynae Cassius as your lawful wife, to have and hold until death do you part?" The man pauses gesturing. Mahon squints subtly, and looks back to Lynae with a vaguely perplexed expression, "Was I supposed to pick two of them?" He scratches his chin thoughtfully as he looks about at the remaining people gathered. Frederiko finishes emitting jazz MUSIC to the ceremony begins. Sadim stands up after nearly spitting out his drink....cause he wasn't really eating earlier....As he moves up to join his sister, the Caspian Lieutenant looks down at what he is wearing and says, "Next time give me a heads up, I mean I feel like I really should be wearing a dress right now" The droid finds that mental image terribly amusing. It wishes it had been warned, too. It could have made up a very nice set of rings for them, but they likely had some picked out already. If not, well, hey. That's what power tools are for! A small, thin right hand rises to Maris' chest as she looks to Lynae with utter surprise. "Me?", she asks. Slowly rising from her seat, her eyes slowly scan the room to the others and then back to her 'sister' with uncertainty. "As you wish, Lynae.", she says despite her wanting to ask if Lynae has gone insane. Smoothing out the skirt of her dress, Maris slowly moves over to stand by Lynae's side. Well, this just gets more and more interesting with every passing moment, Enb'Zik decides. He lifts a hand to run his fingers over his right dewflaps thoughtfully, then sits forward again to watch the goings on. There are things to absorb here, and he will. In time. With a critical ear he takes in the music, as well, listening only partly to the sound but paying more attention to the notes themselves and to their artistic arrangement. He's not as practiced at such things as many of his race, but music holds an innate place in Sullustan culture, and he does find the juxtaposition of musical voices... striking. Finally, those die down, and the vows begin. They really will have this done before the appetizers are served, won't they? As controlled chaos seems to reign, Mahon holds up his hand for a moment. "I... uh... Think we're still shaking out the chaos here, Chaplain. Can we try that again once we have everyone in place?" He squints for a moment, then starts rifling through his pockets, producing a ring-box which he very nearly drops. He passes it to HM743, "Hold that." And then he looks back to Lynae, quirking a lopsided grin, "Ready?" The machine deftly takes the ring box in its lower-right hand, and resists the temptation to peek at it. The machine staves off this intense curiosity only by sheer force of will. It would be wearing a satisfied, perhaps even smug smile, but it cannot really do that, and so it is content to be the calmest-looking one in the room. Lynae smiles at Sadim and Maris and says, "It's all right, I'm wearing one so you don't need too," she says to Sadim before saying to Maris, "I'm positive," she says with a solemn nod and slides the ring she'd worn on her thumb to Maris, "Hold this for a moment please," she asks softly. She turns back towards Mahon in time to see him fumble with the ring box before passing it to HM743. "Of course," she says simply and with another smile. The Chaplain had been alive for a very long time and smiles warmly, "Second chances are hard to come by, but we can make an exception this once." he glances over the group gathered around him and nods, "Something as unique as this deserves a second go. We'll take this slowly." he turns a few pages in his book, "As said and to remind you all. We are gathered here in reverence and peace to witness the bonding of Thomas C Mahon and Lynae Cassius in marriage." he declares. He looks to the pair to be certain they are ready and starts, "Thomas C. Mahon do you take Lynae to be your wife, to protect and love to serve and counsel until death does you part?" his blue eyes were now penetrating as he looks at the man and waiting his response. Mahon has turned to face Lynae as the two of them stand before the Chaplain. He looking across the space between them into her eyes. He draws a deep breath in and lets it out slow to steady his nerves. Good lord, there is a distinct possibility at this point that this is not a joke. The observant might note that Mahon arches an eyebrow slightly at the word 'protect', and he has to suppress a smirk, or perhaps even laughter at some private joke. "As often as she will possibly let me get away with it - I do." A quiet chuckle leaves Enb'Zik's throat as Mahon makes his oath. The Sullustan glances aside at Snarl, knowing -exactly- what the Presav means. Snarl notices the play of expressions across both faces up front of the room and has trouble suppressing a toothy grin at Mahon's comment. She glances at Enb'Zik and nearly laughs out loud, seeing that his thoughts have gone in the same direction. The Chaplain is of course amused and smiles, "Very well." he nods and turns to Lynae, "Lynae Cassius do you take Thomas to be your husband, to protect and love to serve and counsel until death does you part?" Again the same seriousness crosses the old man's blue eyes as he gazes between them and those who stand with them. Lynae makes absolutely no attempt to hide the look of quiet amusement in her eyes as she reads Mahon's expression, the arched eyebrow and the smirk and especially his tone of voice as he replies. It's no wonder she breathes a quiet breath of laughter at his words and the smile that curves her lips upwards is for Mahon alone while waiting for the Chaplain to pose to her the same query. She gives the question a moment of thought, her eyes sparking as she pretends to take a long moment to ponder, head tilting ever so slightly to the side before saying, "I believe I will yes. In fact, I do." Hearing Mahon's response, Maris can't help but release a harsh snort of agreement but keeps her comments to herself. She's behaving, she truly is. She glances about the room until Lynae replies to the chaplain and quirks a brow again, as if amazed that her best friend actually said those words and with great pride too. The Chaplain clears his throat and nods, "Very good. Thomas, Lynae take your rings." he requests, "The ring is a symbol of your loyalty and the longevity of your relationship. A ring has no beginning and end and it has no separation between sides it is one. Let these rings remind you, you are together forever, partners in life." he gestures, "Place your ring on the one you love and treasure." he says quietly awaiting for them to follow the instructions. Now, 743 doesn't know the protocol for this ind of thing. Remaining respectfully quiet and observing seems the best course of action, everything seems to be going as it is meant to. The joking, though the droid expects that it was both in all seriousness and a joke, it does not think is standard for this. AS the rings are mentioned, it holds the box towards Mahon, opening it and offering the piece of shiny in question. Mahon smiles back to Lynae - one of those sly smiles that suggests he's getting away with something. He turns to HM743, and takes the ring from the ring box, "Thank you." And then he turns back to his bride, and takes a half-step closer to her. He cradles her ring-hand in his, then gingerly slides that ring into place. Lynae hears that distinctive snort of agreement from Maris and casts an amused glance in her sisters direction before following the direction of the Chaplain and turns back towards Maris to retrieve the ring so briefly entrusted. She holds the ring carefully, refusing to allow her own nerves to make her hands unsteady and briefly studies the simple wedding band they'd selected. For neither she nor Mahon are the sort to want nor wear gaudy sparkly bits of jewelry and she briefly curls her hand around the ring while extending her left hand to him and holding quiet and still while he places the ring onto her ring finger. Once done she offers up a soft smile and reaches for his left hand and does the same, placing his ring upon his ring finger. The Chaplain nods as he reaches gingerly and presses his hand on theirs and whispers, "Let me be the first to congratulate you," before stepping back with his regal and aged expression and looks up to the audience, "With the power entrusted to me by the Caspian Democratic Union, I now pronounce you husband and wife." he turns to Mahon, "You may kiss the bride." he smiles closing his book as the pipes wait for it and prepare to erupt when all is done. Maris removes the ring from its safe place, no not in her cleavage, and hands it over to Lynae with a smile and nod of approval before resuming her neutral expression while the festivities continue. Snarl waits until Lynae and Mahon have completed their vows and exchanged their rings, and then darts up to the couple with speed that always surprises those who haven't seen her move before. "Congratulations!" the massive cat rumbles before picking Lynae up bodily and hugging her with a wide grin. She then sets her friend down, not squished into paste, and backs off to let the other witnesses of the happy event approach without fear of being crushed. Sadim smiles as he looks to his half-sister and his new half-brother in law, "Shall I order our engineers to spray paint Just Married on the hull of your ship dear?" HM743 speaks up, "I could do that. Gold glitter-paint, to spell it out in binary. A classier bar code, the galaxy will never see." And thus, the ceremony has officially past the point where anyone can turn to the audience and say, 'Just kidding,' and normalcy can reign. Mahon winks at Lynae, then steps forward that necessary half-pace, wraps his arms around her middle. He tilts his head slightly to the right as he angles in towards her. And as their lips touch, and linger... it's clear that these two have had plenty of practice at this whole maneuver. Maybe they've even seen each other naked. Mahon is content to let that kiss linger, as the pipes start their jubilant wail. It's only when Snarl all but dog-piles... er... cat-piles them that the kiss is disrupted. And as Snarl twirls Lynae about, Mahon stands there, crossing his arms, and looking expectant, before he grins at Snarl, "Can I have my wife back now?" Snarl gives Mahon a sheepish grin, which looks damn strange on a cat, and sets Lynae down in front of him. "Sorry," she rumbles as she gives her a light push in his direction. Sometimes, with the speed she moves, Enb'Zik would swear Snarl augments /her/ locomotion with the Force. The Sullustan is left blinking in Snarl's wake as he stands up more in time with the anticipated swell of the music. Seeing as he is about the only one present who's not already at the front, playing music, or otherwise involved in the ceremony, the Sullustan steps closer but lingers a couple of meters back. The typical diplomat, he waits his turn with a soft chuckle at Snarl's antics and Mahon's calm response. Lynae knows that wink and steps towards Mahon, easily returning his embrace and kiss, without the additional mental images that would so startle their guests were any of them either psychic or empathic, poor Zik! They're barely wed but half a minute or so before she's scooped up, spun around, laughs while this is happening then set back on her feet. A bit dizzy from the suddenness of the lift-spin-return she reaches out and slides her hands into Mahon's and laughs yet again, "No one spray paints anything on the hull of my ship, let alone in gold glitter. Don't make me land a ship on you," she warns-teases in return . HM743 crosses its arms and sounds like it is smirking, "Next you'll tell me I cannot affix a chain of empty containers behind it. Hyperspace travel hazard or not, there are traditions to be observed." Sadim pouts, "Damn I was thinking we could write it out in a few different languages and everything. You know if you don't let us accessorize your ship that HM and I are just going to have to play with something else....perhaps redecorate your house or something" Mahon catches Lynae about the waist with one arm, rather handily preventing his bride from upending on account of any Snarl-inflicted dizziness. He looks aside to HM743, one brow arching, "Hyperspace hazard? Could you just made them jettisonable upon jump by way of some manner of explosive bolts?" Snarl snorts and mutters something about streamers. With all the mention of 'decorating' the honeymoon ship, Maris grins most evilly to Lynae and pipes up saying, "Ummm, Lynae? I could use a lift back to the Inquisitor, you know. You can drop me off after your ship is finished with the overhaul and on the way to your honeymoon." HM743 tilts its head to the side, "You mean, you don't see any of the potential entertainment value in such things coming off into the path of the right ship at the right time?" With one optic mount, it glances to Sadim, pondering the placement of five cases of playground balls, sans case, into select areas of the ship. Lynae laughs, shaking her head, "Explosive bolts," she repeats with another laugh and a glances around, "see, that's one of the so many reasons he's perfect for me." She leans against Mahon's side and outright laughs at Maris's suggestion. "Right. I see the idea there. We get married AND die all within the same week. I think that just about breaks the odds for any betting pool." Shaking her head, Maris crinkles up her nose to Lynae and replies, "Nah, I was thinking more along the lines of shock value." She fails to mention the obvious, that the instant she returns, she'll be questioned, thoroughly, about this evening.